[Footnote 10: Inn.]
"Have you anyone here now?" enquired the baron of the _csarda_ woman.
"Yes, three or four lads and _Ripa_. The old fellow has just been
released from the prison at Arad. I don't know whether he served his
full time. Pray walk in!"
"They are not robbers, are they?" asked Clementina hesitating.
"No, dear heart alive, there are no robbers in these parts, but only
poor vagabonds. You will not find robbers nearer than the Bakony forest.
These poor fellows hurt nobody, least of all ladies. I don't count old
Ripa at all, but only the other three. It would be another thing if
Blackey were here, for he is a fine gentleman and likes to amuse
himself with the ladies. But don't think, dear soul, that his features
are black, oh, dear, no! I call him 'Blackey' because he always wears a
mask of black velvet lest he should be recognized, only his eyes and
mouth are ever visible."
And with such comforting assurances she escorted Henrietta and
Clementina up the narrow staircase.
They had to pass through the long tap-room before they came to the inner
parlour. At the guest table were sitting three hardy looking young
fellows and an old pock-marked man, a foxey-eyed rascal who drank out of
the others' glasses from time to time and kept the conversation going.
"Come! shut up, Ripa!" said the landlady to the old man. "This is no
Jew-Madame, but the spouse of my lord, Baron Hatszegi.
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